There is no turning back after you pay your 16 rand (73p) for the Bakwena Toll Road towards Botswana. We are entering the land where tribesmen hold the crocodile as their sacred totem.
After 90 minutes on the road, the designer boutiques of Johannesburg make way for roadside adverts for animal pellets and livestock handling.
Decaying townships where children dance for spare change at the traffic lights are left behind and we head into lush farmland where workers carry machetes and bags full of fresh spinach.
‘We’ll stop for gas now because we sometimes run out in the north,’ says Zanie Janse van Rensburg, the mother of England’s new South African-born centre, Benhard, who is driving me up to their family farm in the remote province of Limpopo.
I return from the petrol station with two coffees and a packet of biltong.
‘You shouldn’t buy that stuff,’ she says with a smile. ‘We make our own!’
There is no turning back after you pay your 16 rand for the Bakwena Toll Road towards Botswana
At the end of the winding road we will reach the childhood home of England’s newest centre
Benhard Janse van Rensburg grew up in the South African bush
Now he is set to make his debut for England this Saturday, against Fiji at Everton’s Hill Dickinson Stadium
The 217-mile journey feels perilous at times. Police stop and search cars, looking for unlicenced vehicles and people illegally smuggling rhino horns across the border.
The rising altitude of the Magaliesberg Mountains is enough to make your ears pop. There are bridges over the long and winding Crocodile River, which runs directly through the Janse van Rensburgs’ back yard.
Taking a sharp bend, we pass a burnt out Volkswagen Polo that has crashed into a truck. A police officer in a white forensic suit inspects the damage. Road accidents are common.
The mining traffic leads us to Thabazimbi – meaning ‘Mountain of Iron’ in Tswana, the local Bantu language – where all of the Janse van Rensburg family went to Frikkie Meyer High School. The whiff of sulphur hits you. We stop off for a quick tour from the Afrikaans teacher, who shows me the dormitory where Benhard secretly kept a chicken.
‘Benhard went to the farm school when he was small and it was always barefoot,’ explains Zanie. ‘They would play outside and pick the thorns out of their feet. There were only three kids in his year – Benhard and two girls.
‘He played in the first team from grade one (six years old) because there were only 17 boys in the school. They always lost. They were always defending. That’s how he learned how to tackle!
‘When Benhard came here to high school, he was mad because it was the first time he had to wear shoes. We were so excited to watch his first proper rugby match for the Under 14s.
‘Their first game was against a big school from Tzaneen, about four hours away. The school was from a big citrus area, supported by rich mango farmers, and it had these amazing facilities. I thought, “Holy cow, what do they feed these kids?” and Benhard’s school lost 42-0.
A young Benhard (right) with his brother HJ, who is also now on England’s radar
Benhard starring for Frikkie Meyer High School, where he was in the first team from the age of six – as there were only 17 boys in the entire school
The Crocodile River flows through the Magaliesberg Mountains all the way to the Janse van Rensburgs’ back yard
The 217-mile journey feels perilous at times. Police stop and search cars, looking for unlicenced vehicles and people illegally smuggling rhino horns across the border
‘Most kids leave Thabazimbi if they want to pursue sports. We could have sent Benhard to a big school in Pretoria but we decided against that. That’s what I love about his story.’
It is another 36 miles from Thabazimbi to their village of Makoppa.
The roads become unkempt and bumpy, leaving a trail of dust behind us. We see a group of men running barefoot across the road, chasing a bird with a slingshot, in search of dinner.
After almost six hours in the car – including a stop to pick up the school’s cricket kit – we pull into the driveway. The sound of 10 barking dogs welcomes us. Gerhard, Benhard’s father, is waiting on the lawn.
‘Welcome!’ he says, with open arms. ‘Don’t worry about the dogs, they are very friendly… except the small one, Coco! Come in, relax, have a drink, and then I will take you to see the real animals.’
Inside, a large picture of Benhard in his Bristol Bears kit hangs above the computer. Beer, brandy and whisky are on offer as I am given an introduction to life in the Bushveld.
‘We are struggling on the farm,’ explains Gerhard. ‘We do cotton, maize, soya beans and sugar beans, but the prices are very low. We’re paying a lot for diesel, fertiliser and weedkiller. Tractors are expensive because we pay dollar prices.
‘There have been some diseases but the cattle and the game farming is not too bad. When Benhard moved abroad, he sent all his money back to South Africa. That helped us buy irrigation pivots. Without his help, we can’t survive.’
After almost six hours in the car we pull into the driveway. The sound of 10 barking dogs welcomes us. Gerhard, Benhard’s father, is waiting on the lawn
‘Come in, relax, have a drink, and then I will take you to see the real animals’
‘We are struggling on the farm,’ explains Gerhard. ‘We do cotton, maize, soya beans and sugar beans, but the prices are very low’
‘When Benhard moved abroad, he sent all his money back to South Africa. That helped us buy irrigation pivots. Without his help, we can’t survive.’
What quickly becomes clear is Benhard was not brought up in a world of privilege. His pathway to international rugby has not been straightforward.
‘When Benhard was a small boy, he didn’t go to pre-school,’ Gerhard adds. ‘He learned more on the farm with me. He would sleep on the floor of the tractor while I was working, any time of day. I played rugby myself, but I didn’t want to send my kids to a school in the city so they had a slightly better chance of becoming a rugby player.
‘My boys have worked on the farm since they were 4ft tall. They drive the tractors, they work with cattle, they feed the animals. My father is 86 and he drives the tractors. If someone on the farm is working with a shovel, Benhard must do it also.
‘When (Bristol director of rugby) Pat Lam said Benhard is farmstock, he was exactly right. Benhard has worked since he was six years old. He drove my truck into town when he was 11. That is life here.
‘Benhard is mentally tough. You can’t give up out here. If something breaks, you must fix it. We are 40km (25 miles) from Thabazimbi, which doesn’t have everything. Everyday something is going to break. That’s life. You can’t be negative about it.
‘When Bristol lost by 94 points to Northampton (94-33), I spoke to Benhard and said, “The sun will still come up tomorrow… you must carry on”. You will never see Benhard b****ing with a referee because from a small boy on the farm, I taught him that you must keep going.’
The African sun drops early at this time of year. We climb into the back of a truck, known as a bakkie, and the dogs jump in for a drive around the farmland. Gerhard pulls out a packet of biltong to share around.
‘This is the real deal,’ he says. ‘I make it myself. This is from our own cattle. Whenever Benhard comes to visit, he vacuum packs it and takes some home.’
Gerhard pulls out a packet of biltong to share around. ‘This is the real deal,’ he says. ‘I make it myself’
What quickly becomes clear is Benhard was not brought up in a world of privilege. His pathway to international rugby has not been straightforward
A truck from the nearby iron ore mine in Thabazimbi – which means ‘mountain of iron’ in the local Tswana language
Frikkie Meyer High School, where Benhard was in a class of three
It is a birdwatcher’s paradise. We see kingfishers, lilac-breasted rollers and fish eagles. Yet that is nothing compared to the three ostriches that run alongside the truck.
We manoeuvre up a grassy bank and Crocodile River comes into sight. Hearing the engine, a troop of monkeys make a dash for it. Hippo footprints four times the size of my hand are imprinted in the ground.
‘This river runs all the way down to the Botswanan border, where it becomes the Limpopo River,’ explains Gerhard. ‘There are crocodiles and hippos in here. They only really come out at night. When Benhard was a boy, he came fishing in this river. You get a lot of carps and big catfish. Very big ones. He loved it.’
Heading towards drier land, we whizz past the farm school where Benhard spent his early years. Oranges and lemons grow on the citrus trees in the playground. The daughter of one of the teachers turns up to let us in. She explains how, a day earlier, her father broke his leg after being charged at by a buffalo. Nobody seems too surprised.
The windscreen is cracked because of loose stones from the road. As we pull away from the crop fields, the landscape changes. The earth becomes a sandy loam, like a scene from The Lion King. There are camelthorn trees and sicklebush, a haven for wildlife.
‘Over there!’ shouts Zanie from the passenger seat. Eight giraffes emerge through the trees, with three zebras on their tail. We stop to watch them feeding beneath the sunset. Life in the bush has its challenges, but moments like this are difficult to beat.
There are impalas and buffalo and meerkats. ‘Damn aardvarks!’ blasts Gerhard, as we swerve around holes on the track.
An hour on the back of the truck is enough to test anyone’s balance.
‘Over there!’ shouts Zanie, Benhard’s mother, from the passenger seat. Eight giraffes emerge through the trees, with three zebras on their tail
It is a birdwatcher’s paradise. We see kingfishers, lilac-breasted rollers and fish eagles. Yet that is nothing compared to the three ostriches that run alongside the truck
Heading towards dryer land, we whizz past the farm school where Benhard spent his early years. Oranges and lemons grow on the citrus trees in the playground
Craven Week team photos – the iconic Under 18s school rugby competition has spawned more than 200 Springboks
‘There is one drive I always remember,’ says Gerhard. ‘Benhard had a schoolfriend called Potato and they would always sit on the back of the truck. One day, Zanie took a sharp corner and immediately she saw Benhard lying in the road behind her.
‘He fell badly. She stopped and thought he was dead. She got out the truck and he was crying. Zanie comes out and says, “Are you OK?”. He wasn’t crying because he was hurt… he was crying because he thought she was going to drive away! That boy is a wild dog!’
The temperature plummets at night so we retreat back to the farm. The football World Cup is on the TV and Benhard’s brother, HJ, pours me a brandy and coke – Klipdrift Premium, or Klippies as they call it in these parts. I ask how it will feel to see his sibling making his debut for England off the bench against Fiji on Saturday, at Everton’s Hill Dickinson Stadium.
‘I’m proud of him,’ says HJ, who is also a promising rugby player, with ambitions to play for Bristol. ‘A year ago, he told me that coach Steve Borthwick was talking to him about playing for England. He asked me what I thought and I told him to do it.
‘Recently, the Springboks sent an email to Bristol asking Benhard to join an alignment camp. But he never had a call with any of the South African coaches and coach Steve had been clear with him throughout.
‘We love South Africa, but we told Benhard that England was the way to go. It would be a real privilege to watch him at Twickenham one day.’
HJ is in charge of dinner. He sets alight the logs on the braai and seasons a feast’s worth of boerewors sausage and steaks from the farm. ‘I hope you are hungry!’ he says.
It is a family occasion. The grandparents also live in one of the outbuildings, as do two cousins, whose father passed away when he was just 39 years old. Everyone does their bit.
HJ is in charge of dinner. He sets alight the logs on the braai and seasons a feast’s worth of boerewors sausage and steaks from the farm
It is a family occasion. The grandparents also live in one of the outbuildings, as do two cousins, whose father passed away when he was just 39 years old. Everyone does their bit
The Frikkie Meyer High School rugby captains – including Gerhard in 1986 and HJ in 2022
With Janse van Rensburg’s parents in a local shop
Their grandmother, Martie, slaves over a mushroom sauce on the stove. ‘Nik, you must sit back and relax,’ says Gerhard. I settle in on the sofa and the dogs soon join me. The whole family burst into a fit of laughter when I stroke Coco, who I was warned about, and end up with a sharp nip on the finger.
‘She must have thought you were Henry Pollock!’ jokes Gerhard.
Dinner is served. Everyone holds hands and gathers around the table to say grace. It is delicious, mopped up with traditional cheese toasties cooked over the flames. They share stories about Benhard’s childhood.
‘Do you know why our village is called Makoppa?’ asks HJ. ‘It means black mamba. There are lots of snakes here but you are OK because it’s winter.
‘The puff adders are the ones that get into the house the most. They are lazy snakes. They don’t kill you but if they bite you, then you have to cut out the flesh.
‘If a black mamba bites you, then you are in trouble! Just don’t get close to their nests because they chase you. They have killed a few of our dogs. Benhard found one by the sofa once. We leave the lights on at night because you do not want to stand on them!’
Beneath the table, the feeling of one of the dog’s cold noses on my leg makes me jump out of my skin. ‘I check under my pillow every night for scorpions,’ reveals Gerhard. ‘But don’t worry, your windows are closed!’
Over dessert, Zanie describes how Benhard’s rugby career took off at university.
‘The puff adders are the ones that get into the house the most. They are lazy snakes. They don’t kill you but if they bite you, then you have to cut out the flesh’
Benhard with his family when playing at North West University in Potchefstroom
‘Do you know why our village is called Makoppa?’ asks HJ. ‘It means black mamba. There are lots of snakes here but you are OK because it’s winter’
‘We are a religious family,’ says Gerhard. ‘Life here is not always easy but for me, this place is the closest you’ll get to Heaven’
‘At the big Craven Week competition (the iconic Under 18s schools cup that brought more than 200 Springboks including Siya Kolisi, Eben Etzebeth and Schalk Burger to the fore), Benhard’s schoolboy team would come up against these big teams from the city and get a good hiding.
‘When Benhard went to university, it was the first time ever that he was in a team that won matches. He had spent his whole life just tackling and suddenly he looked like a king on the pitch. It was just so amazing. That was the first time where he could just play rugby the way he wanted to. It felt like a miracle.’
We head outside to let our food digest, mindful of where I put my feet.
Gerhard points out the Southern Cross constellations which farmers use to find their bearings. ‘We are a religious family,’ he says, looking up at the night sky. ‘Life here is not always easy but for me, this place is the closest you’ll get to Heaven.
‘I know there will be some people in England who will talk about Benhard and say, “No, we don’t want a foreigner” but, you know, this is his journey. Benhard will give his whole heart to England.
‘The kids from the big schools in South Africa get the opportunities. Benhard is the same age as Curwin Bosch and Damian Willemse. Those guys were playing for the Springboks when they were 20. It’s hard to get spotted here, but this is our home.
‘Benhard did not get a chance to become a good rugby player until he was 25. The chances of someone from here playing international rugby are one in a million. He has made his own path. We are so proud.’
There are no hotels for miles around so I spend the night on the farm. In Benhard’s room, the John Deere tractor bedsheets have not been replaced since he left home. The single-storey farmhouse was built by Benhard’s grandfather, Ben, who at 86 is hard of hearing. Ben does not involve himself too much in the conversation, but he stops me before I head to bed.
The Janse van Rensburgs – HJ, his grandmother and grandfather, mother Zanie and father Gerhard – with Nik Simon (furthest right)
I settle in on the sofa and the dogs soon join me. The whole family burst into a fit of laughter when I stroke Coco, who I was warned about, and end up with a sharp nip on the finger
‘The chances of someone from here playing international rugby are one in a million. He has made his own path. We are so proud’
It is a story that has defied the odds. A journey down the road less travelled
‘Nik, thank you for coming out to see us,’ he says. ‘My father worked for 25 years in the mine so he could buy this farm. He worked in an iron mine and he would come back covered in dust. Life was hard.
‘Now Benhard is saving his money to buy his own farms. Almost all of the cattle out there belong to Benhard – and I am looking after them!
‘You know, we all thought maybe Benhard could become a Springbok. Since he was in primary school, I could see that he had talent. But if Benhard plays against the Springboks, I promise you I will be shouting for England. So will my five sisters. I just want to say that I am so happy for my grandson.’
It is a story that has defied the odds. A journey down the road less travelled.
